


(Maybe) The Universe Was Teaching You a Lesson

by Bumblie_Bee



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: And drinks copious amounts of tea, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirk thinks very little of himself, Farah is the voice of reason, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Poor Dirk, Sick Dirk, Sickfic, Worried Todd, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblie_Bee/pseuds/Bumblie_Bee
Summary: Todd sighed. “Go and put your pyjamas on, I’ll make you some tea.”“Pyjamas?” Dirk frowned and then looked back at the window. “Isn’t it morning?”“Yeah, but you’re ill and clearly determined to catch pneumonia, the way you’re dealing with it.”In which Dirk is poorly, drinks copious amounts of tea, and then talks about feelings.





	(Maybe) The Universe Was Teaching You a Lesson

(Maybe) The Universe Was Teaching You a Lesson

 

“Maybe you should go back to bed.” Todd suggested, when Dirk coughed for the fourth time in as many minutes. Dirk glanced up from his desk.

 

“Why would I want to go to bed, Todd?” He coughed again and then grimaced, his hand going to his chest. Todd raised his eyebrows.

 

“Oh, I see, that,” Dirk said, as if just noticing the cough. “It’s just a cold!” he flapped a hand dismissively.

 

“Yeah, but colds seem to hit you badly. You have the immune system of a stick, remember?”

 

“How many sticks with colds have you seen?” Dirk asked, innocently, looking down at the form on his desk and sticking his pen back in his mouth.

 

Todd sighed.

 

“You’ll inhale the ink if you cough like that,” he mumbled. Dirk seemed not to hear him, but when Todd glanced over a few coughs later, Dirk was nibbling on a pencil instead, the sad-looking biro abandoned.

 

 

“Don’t you hate paperwork?” Todd asked half an hour later.  

 

“Hmm?” Dirk said, looking up from the piece of paper he had been staring blankly at for the past five minutes. He was squinting slightly, as if the light was bothering him.

 

“Paperwork. Didn’t you once call it your arch nemesis?”

 

“Probably.” Dirk’s mouth twitched slightly. “It isn’t as bad-” he broke off and coughed, “as those lollies on paper sticks, I always end up eating the paper.” He looked about to say more but coughed again instead. Todd waited for him to stop before speaking.

 

“There wouldn’t be any paperwork to do in your bed, though,” he said, pointedly. Dirk looked down at his desk and then sighed and rubbed his eyes.

 

“Fine, I’ll go home, not because I’m ill though, I just have…stuff to do there,” he finished lamely. He stood up and swayed slightly, steadying himself on his desk.

 

“Yeah, I know, you’re definitely not ill,” Todd agreed. Dirk nodded absently as he pulled on his jacket, the sarcasm apparently lost on him.

 

“Alright, see you tomorrow,” he said as he headed for the door.

 

“Get some rest, okay? And maybe take some aspirin when you get home, you know, for the headache.”

 

Dirk shot him a glare as he closed the door but, perhaps significantly, didn’t protest.  

 

 

Dirk didn’t answer the door when Todd knocked lightly on it the next morning. He hadn’t answered the door the night before either. Todd hadn’t been too bothered at the time, assuming Dirk had just taken his advice and put himself to bed but now it was getting towards nine in the morning and it was unlike Dirk to sleep in so late. Todd told himself he wasn’t worrying about a 35-year-old man with a cold as he located the key for the flat on his keyring. 

 

Dirk was asleep on the sofa when Todd let himself into the flat. He was huddled under a blanket, the top of his head just visible on the far arm. He stirred as the door opened and pushed the blankets away from his face to look, blinking blearily in the light streaming through his open curtains.

 

“Todd?” he asked, and then coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Why are you here?” He looked up at the window, seeming for the first time to register the daylight outside and then pushed himself upright, frowning in confusion. “What’s the time?”

 

Once Dirk was sitting, Todd realised he was still dressed in the same shirt and tie he had been wearing the day before, although he had at some point had the thought to remove his jacket and had left it in a puddle on the floor. Todd blinked at the puddle.

 

“Dirk, why is your jacket wet?” Dirk frowned and then his eyes widened.

 

“Oh, I rescued a dog!” He smiled, looking satisfied, and then shivered violently.

 

“What?” Todd asked, confused.

 

“There was a dog in the pond and-” Dirk was cut off by a cough which was followed by a second and then a third. His shoulders shook with the force of them.

 

“You jumped in a pond after a dog?”

 

“No, of course not!” Dirk looked at him as if he were the one who had spent the night in soaking clothes whilst ill. “I fell.” He shivered again.

 

Todd sighed. “Go and put your pyjamas on, I’ll make you some tea.”

 

“Pyjamas?” Dirk frowned and then looked back at the window. “Isn’t it morning?”

 

“Yeah, but you’re ill and clearly determined to catch pneumonia, the way you’re dealing with it.”

 

“Can you even catch pneumonia?” Dirk asked, looking thoughtful, but wriggled out from under the blanket and pushed himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously and Todd had to grasp his arm to steady him.

 

“Are you ready to admit you’re ill yet?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Dirk glared but said nothing as he stumbled off in the direction of his bedroom. 

 

 

Dirk returned from his bedroom wearing navy chequered pyjama bottoms and one of Todd’s Mexican Funeral t-shirts. Todd didn’t remember giving him a second shirt after the first one had been taken from him during his time in Blackwing.

 

“I was wondering where those had been going,” he said, nodding at the t-shirt as he waited for the kettle to boil.

 

“Hmm, it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” Dirk agreed and slumped back onto the sofa, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He coughed and then groaned.

 

“Todd,” he whined from the lounge, “My head hurts?”

 

Todd sighed; he had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

 

 

Dirk fell asleep about ten minutes into ‘The Lion King’, his feet on Todd’s lap and his head propped up on the arm of the sofa. Todd, not wanting to disturb him, resigned himself to watching the children’s film alone. Not that he minded having a day off work to be used as a pillow whilst watching films.

 

He texted Farah, explaining their absence and at first, she had sent back a message which just said ‘Skivers!’, but it was shortly followed by another text which read ‘Tell him I hope he feels better soon : )’. Farah had enough experience with Dirk to know he wasn’t much of a skiver. He was more the sort of person to ignore illness or injury until he collapsed, and even then, it was often something of a fight to get him any sort of medical assistance.  

 

Dirk stirred just as the credits were rolling and mumbled something about pancakes. He flapped at the covers a little and then coughed. Once he started coughing, he seemed unable to stop and he sat up, his eyes wide as he struggled to draw a breath.

 

When the coughing eventually subsided, he slumped back into the cushions looking spent.

 

“I think you might have been right,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. Todd passed him a bottle of water and he sipped at it gratefully.

 

“About?”

 

“I, admittedly, might be ever so slightly ill,” he said, looking up at Todd. He looked the picture of misery.

 

“Yeah, are you still denying you have a shocking immune system?” Todd asked, taking the bottle of water back from where it was held limply in Dirk’s hand.

 

Dirk sighed. “I practically grew up in a sterile environment, Todd, it isn’t as if I had time to build up much of one.”

 

Todd blinked silently in response; he hadn’t expected such a serious answer to his teasing.

 

Dirk appeared not to notice his discomfort and shivered under the blanket. “Is the heating broken?” he asked, glancing at the radiator.

 

“No, I don’t think so.” Todd was feeling pretty cosy under the blanket. “I take it you’re cold?”

 

Dirk hummed in confirmation and then shivered again as if to prove the point. Todd reached over and held the back of his hand to Dirk’s head. Dirk flinched. 

 

“Hey, you’re freezing!” he said, trying to back further into the cushion.

 

“No, you’re just hot,” Todd said, frowning. Dirk frowned too, looking confused. “You’ve got a fever, I think,” he explained.

 

 

Dirk woke again two hours later, coughing uncontrollably, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. He sat up, looking disorientated.

 

“I’m too hot!” he moaned, pushing uncoordinatedly at the blanket. Todd helped him to remove it, only for Dirk to reach for it again almost as soon as he was uncovered, muttering about being too cold.

 

“Would you like more tea?” Todd offered, because tea was Dirk’s solution to everything. He pushed himself to his feet now that Dirk had stopped using him as a foot rest. Dirk nodded, still looking vaguely confused, and then flopped back down onto the sofa. He coughed twice, grimacing as he did so.

 

When Todd returned with the tea, Dirk was sitting up again, flapping with the blanket.

 

“I can’t even work out what temperature I am,” he mumbled miserably.

 

 

Dirk spent most of the day drifting in and out of sleep, and by the time evening arrived, he was coughing almost more time than he wasn’t when he was awake. The coughing itself appeared to have worsened too, and with each fit Dirk’s face crumpled in pain and his hand went instinctively to his chest.  Todd could do nothing but watch, a sharp pain in his own chest.

 

When the coughing finally subsided after a particularly long fit, Dirk slumped back onto the sofa with his head on Todd’s knees.

 

“I don’t like being ill,” he mumbled, looking up at Todd with fever-bright eyes. His expression was tight and his hand was still clamped to his chest. “It hurts.”

 

“The coughing?” Todd asked, gently removing a strand of sweat soaked hair from Dirk’s eyes.

 

Dirk shook his head against Todd’s knees. “Breathing,” he admitted, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

 

 

Not really knowing what else to do, Todd had texted Farah for help, but by the time she had arrived, Dirk had dozed off again, his head still on Todd’s knees.  

 

“How is he?” she asked, hanging her dripping jacket up on the back of the door. Todd hadn’t noticed it was raining.

 

“I don’t really know,” he said, frowning. “I thought it was a cold but the coughing’s getting worse and I think he’s got a fever but neither of us are the type to own a thermometer.”

 

“Have you given him anything?” she asked, walking over to the sofa.

 

“Tea and aspirin,” Todd informed her, “I can’t get him to eat.” Farah nodded. She crouched down beside Dirk, frowning at the unhealthy flush along his cheekbones.

 

“Hey, Dirk, it’s Farah,” she said, gently shaking him by the shoulder. Dirk’s eyelids fluttered and then he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to focus them.

 

“Oh, hi, Farah,” he croaked, and uncoordinatedly pushed himself upright. He coughed and then winced, letting his head drop back against the cushions. “I’m ill,” he added, forlornly.

 

“Yeah, I can tell,” she said, and then sighed and reached into her bag and brought out a small plastic thermometer.

 

“Will you let me take your temperature?” She held up the thermometer for him to see. Dirk frowned and then coughed, his narrow shoulders shaking.

 

“Where does it go?” he asked, cautiously, when he had finally caught his breath.

 

“Under your tongue.” Dirk seemed to consider that briefly, and then opened his mouth minutely and allowed her to slip the plastic inside. He stayed statue still until the thermometer beeped and then removed it from his mouth and looked at the number on the display. His eyes widened.  

 

“Ohhh, I’m literally boiling!” he exclaimed miserably, thrusting the thermometer back to Farah.

 

“What does it say?” Todd asked her, worriedly.

 

“103,” read Farah, frowning. “That’s not too bad, Dirk, I mean, it’s really not great but it could be worse.”

 

“But I’m hot enough to make tea!” he whispered, looking panicked. Farah frowned at Todd and then suddenly her eyes widened.

 

“Oh, no, Dirk, this is Fahrenheit!” she explained, and then looked back at the thermometer and pressed a button. The reading changed and ’39.4’ appeared on the screen instead. She held it up for Dirk to see. “There you go, Celsius!” Dirk frowned at the numbers and then coughed wetly and flopped back down on to Todd’s knees.

 

“I don’t know what temperature I’m meant to be, anyway,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

 

Todd glanced up, his eyes catching Farah’s. She was wearing the same concerned and almost mournful expression he felt he was probably wearing.

 

 “What do you think?” he asked. He had half expected Dirk to complain about being talked about like he wasn’t there but he stayed silent. Todd found he would almost rather Dirk had complained.

 

“Chest infection, maybe,” Farah suggested, frowning. Dirk coughed into the blanket and groaned miserably and Todd’s hand found its way into his hair, fingers gently running through the sweat soaked strands. Dirk leant his head into the touch. “I don’t know why he got so ill so quickly though.”

 

“What do we do?” he asked, his hand still in Dirk’s hair. Dirk coughed again and mumbled something unintelligible.

 

Farah looked thoughtful for a moment and then sighed. “I think we should keep an eye on him tonight, and if he doesn’t get any better take him to the doctor’s tomorrow? I mean, if his temperature gets too much higher we should probably take him to the ER, right?”

 

Todd nodded in agreement because what other option was there.  

 

 

The night was long.

 

Todd and Farah took it in turns sleeping, and Dirk drifted in and out, waking only to cough and drink tea. They kept the telly on for most of the night, because Dirk seemed too exhausted to be woken by it and because, in the silence of the night, Todd had noticed the quiet crackling noise Dirk was making as he breathed and realised it was a noise he really didn’t want to hear.

 

At one point during the early hours, Dirk woke up coughing and couldn’t stop, his chest heaving and his shoulders shaking and his glassy eyes wide with panic. By the time the coughing had subsided, his lips were tinged blue and Farah had her phone in her hand, almost ready to call for an ambulance.

 

Dirk dozed off again pretty quickly afterwards, exhausted by the illness and the fever it was causing. Todd was pleased when he was asleep again, because although he still coughed whilst he slept, he wasn’t aware of enough for his face to contort in pain with each fit.

 

 

“Dirk, you need to wake up now,” said Todd later that morning, giving Dirk’s shoulder a gentle shake. Dirk groaned and opened his eyes and looked blearily up at him. “Would you like some tea?” Todd asked.

 

“I’m not friends with a teacup?” Dirk mumbled, looking confused. His eyes drifted closed again and Todd gave him another shake.

 

“Wake up, Dirk!” Todd shook his shoulder again, a little less gently than before. “Farah’s booked you a doctor’s appointment.” Dirk eyes opened again and he blinked to focus them.

 

“’m awake,” he muttered, and then pushed himself upright.

 

“Tea?” asked Todd again, already heading for the kitchen.

 

Dirk nodded in response and coughed and then, when the coughing had subsided, appeared to finally notice Farah was still in his apartment. He frowned.

 

“Why are you-” he was cut off by a cough, “Have you been here all night?”

 

Farah nodded and swallowed her mouthful of coffee. “You had us worried.”

 

Dirk frowned again, looking confused, and then got to his feet and stumbled into his bedroom.

 

When he returned, he looked slightly more himself than he had when he left. His cheeks were still flushed with fever and his balance seemed slightly off but he was dressed in clean clothes, and he’d made an attempt at calming his hair. He sat back on the sofa and accepted the tea and painkillers Todd passed him, taking sips of tea in between coughs.

 

 

“Pneumonia.” Farah confirmed, grimly, when she returned with Dirk an hour later. Dirk’s face was pasty and his eyes were tired, but he looked more steady on his feet than he had when he’d left. Todd wondered if the fresh air had done him some good.

 

“He’s got antibiotics and steroids, and the doctor said he should go back if he doesn’t improve within a week.” Farah said as she helped Dirk out of his coat. “And he took some blood.”

 

Dirk muttered something that sounded like “stupid vampire” as he sunk back into the sofa and pulled the blanket onto a heap on his lap. He looked to be using it more for comfort than for warmth.

 

“A blood test?” asked Todd, getting up from the sofa before Dirk resumed using him as a pillow. “Why?”

 

“He wanted to check there wasn’t a reason why his immune system seems so weak.”

 

“I told him why,” said Dirk, pouting. “He just didn’t believe me.”  

 

“You told him it was because you grew up in a government prison for psychics,” Farah said, “You can hardly blame him for not believing you!”

 

“It’s entirely true, though!” Dirk exclaimed, glaring at Todd’s amused expression. He coughed and then, when his breathing was back under control, stretched out on the sofa and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

 

“Hey, you need to take these before you sleep.” Farah reached into her bag and pulled out three boxes of tablets. One Todd recognised as acetaminophen, and the other two he assumed to be the ones prescribed by the doctor. Dirk sighed but pushed himself upright again, accepting the medicine and picking up his bottle of water from the floor to take them with.

 

“Don’t you want some tea with them?” Todd asked. Dirk seemed to consider tea, but then shook his head. He coughed once, grimacing, and then curled up on his side and closed his eyes. He was asleep minutes later.

 

 

For three days, very little changed.

 

Dirk took his medicine without complaint and drank copious amounts of tea and ate worryingly little. He spent most of the time asleep on the sofa, huddled under his blankets but shivering all the same. When he was awake, he was quiet and listless, his breathing wheezy and his voice not much more than a croak. The fever, whilst trying to help, left him achy and exhausted and with barely enough strength to make it to the bathroom on his own.

 

The coughing didn’t improve either, neither in frequency nor force, but thankfully he hadn’t had a fit long enough to turn his lips that alarming shade of blue since the first night. Todd and Farah took it in turns to watch over him, despite his protests, because neither of them wanted to leave him alone only for him to cough himself unconscious, even if such an event was, realistically, very unlikely.

 

 

“I want milkshake?” Dirk croaked when he woke up from a mid-morning nap on the fifth day. Farah glanced up from the paperwork she’d spread over the table, her eyebrows raised.

 

“You’re hungry?” she asked, looking over to the pile of blankets on the sofa. Dirk coughed and then nodded, looking mildly surprised.

 

“Yeah, I’m _really_ hungry!” He sat up, swaying lightly, but looking much more himself than he had in days. “Can I have a milkshake?”

 

“Maybe toast would be a better place to start.” Farah suggested, frowning. Dirk pouted but after a few seconds sighed in agreement.

 

“With honey?” He looked hopeful and Farah found she didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

 

 

“You’re looking better!” said Todd, smiling, when he let himself back into Dirk’s apartment to find him sitting up on the sofa, the blanket folded on his knees and his hair damp from the shower. He had changed out of his pyjamas too, and was instead wearing a burgundy t-shirt and the black zip-up hoodie past him had been wearing the day of the Patrick Spring murder when he and Todd had bumped into him in the corridor.

 

It looked almost too big for him now, the cloth hanging limply on his narrow shoulders. Todd wondered if he could had lost enough weight over the last six days for it to be noticeable or if his mind was just playing tricks on him.

 

“Farah won’t let me eat!” he whined, rolling his head back onto the sofa behind him. He still looked tired, and the fever was still evident in the flush along his cheekbones, but his eyes had lost their glassiness and he seemed to have been watching the TV rather than staring at it blankly as he had been for the fast few days. 

 

“Dirk!” Farah exclaimed from the table, “You know that isn’t what I said!” Dirk smirked briefly and then started coughing instead. “That serves you right for lying. He’s already had two slices of toast and honey, I told him to wait half an hour or so before he had more,” she explained, exasperated. Dirk pretended not to hear her.

 

“She wouldn’t even let me have any milkshake, Todd,” he complained, looking affronted.

 

“I said you could have one later! You can’t not eat for the best part of a week and then start back up with milkshakes, you’ll make yourself sick!” Dirk glared at her from the sofa.

 

“Todd,” he whined, changing tack. “Will you get me a milkshake?”

 

“I’d almost forgotten how annoying you are,” said Todd with a mostly relieved sigh as he took himself to the kitchen for a much-needed coffee.

 

 

 

“Aren’t you meant to take those with water?” Farah asked a few days later, watching as Dirk washed his final dose of antibiotics down with the last of his milkshake. He leant back against the sofa, one hand still holding the glass and the other rested on his stomach.

 

“Milkshake is clearly superior,” he said, eyes now closed. He smiled contently. “I’ve missed milkshake.”

 

Farah frowned. “After the week you’ve had, you chose to complain about the lack of milkshake?”

 

“But I like milkshake!” Dirk said, pouting slightly. Then he sighed. “I still don’t quite understand why it happened, though.”

 

“Why what happened?” asked Todd, coming through from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in each hand. He passed one to Farah.

 

“The pneumonia, obviously.” Dirk said, sitting up to make room for Todd to settle on the sofa beside him.

 

“Maybe because you were an idiot and, whilst sick, fell into a pond, in February?” said Todd, and took a sip of coffee. “And then slept in your wet clothes!” Dirk rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes, but why did I fall in the pond?” he asked, pointedly. There was a pause and then his eyes widened. “Maybe the universe has a plan!”

 

“Maybe the universe was teaching you a lesson,” said Farah, shrugging.

 

“Hmm, what sort of lesson?” He looked at Farah curiously.

 

 “Holistic detectives are not immune to pneumonia?” she suggested, trying to look serious.

 

“Or pretty much anything,” Todd added, raising an eyebrow. Dirk pouted and went to take another sip of his milkshake. The straw sucked on air and he coughed, grimacing, and then when the coughing subsided, glared accusingly at the empty glass.

 

“You’re meant to be nice to me, I’ve had a frankly _awful_ week.”

 

Farah frowned. “It hasn’t been a walk in the park for us either, you know?” she said, assuming he wasn’t actually talking to the milkshake glass and the comment was, instead, meant for Todd.

 

“Why?” Dirk looked up from the glass. He was frowning too. “What happened?”

 

Todd exhaled sharply.

 

“What happened!? You were ill, remember? With pneumonia!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

 

Dirk looked up abruptly at Todd’s heightened voice. His wide eyes flicked between Todd and Farah. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t understand?”

 

“What part of it can you not understand?” Farah asked, sounding almost confused by Dirk’s confusion.

 

“Why would me being ill make your week bad? You didn’t have to be here, I said you should leave? I thought-”

 

“Do you know how ill you were?” Todd interrupted. His voice was sharp and Dirk’s eye’s widened further. “You just caught a cold, that’s how it started, but you had to be an idiot and made everything worse because you don’t think about the consequences for anything, ever! And then you got pneumonia and you were burning up and coughing yourself half to death and there was nothing either of us could do about it. We almost called for an ambulance at one point, Dirk, your lips were blue!”

 

“Todd!” Todd jumped at the sound of his name. He seemed almost frozen for a moment, and then let out a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair.

 

“What Todd is trying to say, is that we were worried about you.”

 

“Worried about me?” Dirk said slowly, he frowned. “Why? I was, well, not fine, maybe, but certainly not dying, or anything, except maybe that time when I went, erm, blue, but you know-”

 

“Dirk!” Farah said over the top of his almost panicked sounding ramblings. Dirk closed his mouth abruptly. “You’re right, kind of,” she said. “Worried isn’t quite the right word. But even when you know they’re going to be okay, it’s upsetting to see someone you care about so ill.”

 

“You care about me?”

 

There was a pause.

 

“You think so little of yourself.” Farah said, softly. Dirk’s mouth opened slightly, but he seemed unable to find the words he wanted and he closed it again. Farah sighed. “You mean a lot to me, Dirk. Both you and Todd mean more to me than you could imagine.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “You’re more like a family to me than my parents and Eddie ever were.”

 

Dirk looked down at his glass, twirling the straw absentmindedly with his finger. He looked deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed. When he spoke next, his voice was soft and heavy with emotion.

 

“I’ve never had people to care about me before, not since I was a child anyway,” he admitted, quietly, his eyes still focused on his glass. “Every time I got close to having a friend either the universe scared them away or it turned out they just wanted my help.

 

“And ever since I met you two, I’ve been waiting for the day when the universe will take you away too.” He paused, and then looked up from the glass, his expression mildly uncomfortable. “But, maybe, this was it showing me it isn’t going to do that this time, that it’s going to let you stay?”

 

Todd frowned.

 

“You’ve got it wrong,” he said softly.

 

“Wrong?” Dirk’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”

 

Todd shook his head. “Do you really think I could leave?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re saying?” Dirk said, his voice small.

 

“What I’m saying is maybe the universe brought us together, but it isn’t because of the universe that we stay with you.” Dirk’s eyebrows were furrowed. He looked about to say something but Todd continued before he had the chance.

 

“I care about you, both of you, more than anyone else in the world. Except for Amanda, perhaps. And I might sometimes get cross with you, Dirk, because you are a complete and utter idiot at times, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being friends with you. I’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Todd trailed off, looking mildly embarrassed by his short display of emotion.

 

There was another pause.

 

“I think you were right, Farah,” Dirk said slowly, his expression still uncharacteristically sober.

 

“Obviously. But in what context?” Farah tilted her head to the side in question.

 

“Maybe the universe was trying to teach me something.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I never thought I could a family again, but maybe, your family isn’t just who your parents are, your family can also be who you chose it to be. Amanda has the Rowdy 3, and Bart has, _had_ , Ken, and I have you two.” He sat up a little taller on the sofa and, slowly, he smiled the brilliantly happy smile Todd had missed so much over the past week.

 

“So, maybe, this was the universe showing that I can have a family after all? That we all can. And, I think, that’s a pretty good outcome from a pretty awful week, don’t you?”

 

 


End file.
